


Spiderweb

by lasersheith, maddymayscrawls, meinposhbastard, stirlingphoenix, themomentofdavyprentiss, wherethefuckisshiro



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bodyguard AU, CEO AU, Choose Your Own Adventure, Drugging with the intent to cause addiction, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mischievous Shopping, Neglectful Father (Zarkon), Parties, Quintessence Abuse, Shirking Duties, Tags for Keitor Routes:, Tags for Lotura Route:, Violence, gun use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 20:51:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16709827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasersheith/pseuds/lasersheith, https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddymayscrawls/pseuds/maddymayscrawls, https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinposhbastard/pseuds/meinposhbastard, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stirlingphoenix/pseuds/stirlingphoenix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/themomentofdavyprentiss/pseuds/themomentofdavyprentiss, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherethefuckisshiro/pseuds/wherethefuckisshiro
Summary: Lotor wakes up one morning to a pain in his shoulder and someone knocking on his door. A choose-your-own-adventure work.





	1. Opener

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaborative choose-your-own-adventure work. Each chapter was written by a different artist. Please read the notes at the end of each chapter for instructions on which chapter to proceed with! There are a total of two ships (Keitor and Lotura) and three endings (two for Keitor and one for Lotura) for this fic.

A burning sensation in Lotor’s shoulder pulls him from his slumber. He groans in pain as he sits up, pushing the blankets back. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he stands and makes his way to the bathroom. 

In the mirror, he inspects his shoulder. A faint red line was forming over his pristine skin. Lotor thought for a moment, recounting his steps over the past few days. Is it possible he contracted something? 

Back in his bedroom, his morning alarm went off, causing Lotor to jump. He wastes no time in crossing the room again to shut it off, muttering some expletives on the way, before beginning his morning routine. He checks his schedule, to find his day filled with to-do’s, meetings, and other activities that surely wouldn’t be finished by the end of the day. 

A small voice in the back of his head was urging Lotor to cancel all of his plans, and do something fun. After all, it had been a while since he’d had a day off. Perhaps it was time… 

Lotor decides it’s a decision to be made after breakfast, and starts getting himself dressed. As he pulls on his shirt, however, his shoulder flares up once more, causing him to wince in pain. He swore, and attempted to massage away some of the tension. 

Just as he finished with his shoulder, he heard a loud knocking at the door. His face scrunched with confusion: who would be knocking at this hour? Should he answer, or send them away?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Keitor route, please proceed to chapter 2  
> For the Lotura route, please proceed to chapter 9


	2. Keitor 1A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor meets his new bodyguard.

He did end up opening the door only because the knocking was becoming infuriatingly persistent, and because the pain in his shoulder seemed to have lessened to a bearable degree. It was infuriating because the knocking was monotone and felt like it would continue until he opened the door.

"You must be the new corpse Kolivan sent," he said, a lifted eyebrow.

The short man's (shorter than him, at least) face was impassable. "Bodyguard, yes. I’m—"

“Allowed to come in,” Lotor said with a deep sigh and then motioned for his new (corpse)bodyguard to walk in. “For now,” he added as he followed the surprisingly sturdy-looking back, although a bit on the lean side, taking a left into the living room.

For a split second the only thought in his mind was that he could safely lean on that shoulder, but the short fantasy dispelled as soon as it came.

The guy walked as if he owned the place and Lotor was about to remark on it, but then he remembered that this was supposed to be a military-trained man, so he let him have at it. And at inspecting the windows, apparently. And the kitchen. Was he looking for fire safeties? Oh, he found the extinguisher. He gave a nod of approval after he (most probably) read the expiration date. Textbook procedure (and naively adorable to boot). What were the standards for getting a bodyguard license these days? Petite and cute?

It was hard to keep himself from laughing at that. He didn't give the new corpse more than a week before he ended up dead somewhere. Lotor's life wasn't easy.

"I'll be in the basement, if you need me," he said, amusement thick in his voice as he turned around and made a fluttering gesture with his hand.

He was, after all, only in his black lounge pants, also dubbed as work pants because he always worked out in the basement of his villa before having breakfast. This time, however, he had been interrupted by the new arrival. There had been a time when he had disliked coffee, but when one held such a position as CEO in Quintess Co., one learned that coffee could become a good friend only if he didn't become dependent on it. As it were, he drank bitter black coffee when he needed to pull all-nighters to wrap up oversea deals.

He didn't hear a word from the new bodyguard, so he ignored it. The pain in his shoulder disappeared, too, so he proceeded to get his workout done. It was a mix of standard exercises on the heavy weights to start, and Tai Chi moves with some Karate added in afterwards. He was a black belt, which was why he found it funny that Kolivan insisted he have a bodyguard with him at all times.

"Karate won't stop bullets from hitting you."

And recently: "You have only yourself to blame, if you go about and anger that mafia boss."

Granted, that had been a slight on his part. A very small, very inconsequential slight. It was the mafia boss that took it and blew it out of proportions. Which was why he seriously doubted that one guy would be able to keep him alive until the trial ends.

He finished practicing with the wood dummy, so he moved towards the center of the room and closed his eyes as he went about his five minutes of breathing exercises and slow limb movements.  
The concentration was disturbed by, first, a slight stir in his shoulder and then descending boots. Wasn't a bodyguard supposed to move around as quietly as possible? Or maybe it was just too quiet in the house to have anything mask soft thudding. The guy probably reached the end of the stairs because the thudding suddenly stopped. Lotor continued with his routine, not without being aware of the fact that he was aware of another's presence in the room. It ticked him the wrong way, though. He liked what was private to stay private.

Not with a corpse tailing him. No.

He opened his eyes and looked for the guy, finding him right next to the door, arms crossed in a nonchalant way. Lotor was about to ask what he was doing, when he realized that from that point he could take in the whole room and the mirrors disposed on the three walls gave him a perfect view of anyone coming down the stairs.

Never mind, Lotor's concentration went down the drain, so he huffed and walked towards the stairs when a forearm blocked him from moving any further. The guy had a lot of nerve, even though Lotor knew already why he did that. And what the guy was about to do.

“I’m safe in my own home,” he said, petulantly because it was morning and a stranger was imposing on his precious alone time.

What was stopping him from tossing the kid out on his arse?

Right. Kolivan. It wasn’t that Lotor would never hear the end of it, but that he’d just end up with another bushy-tailed corpse on his doorstep.

“Until the trial ends, any and all space you are physically present in are not to be considered safe,” he said, the dark gaze meeting his without hesitation. “Sir.”

Lotor narrowed his eyes a bit. That was definitely sarcasm at the end. Oh, he would not be patronized. Not by a pipsqueak who thought that he knew best. He was so close to go Vern Gosdin on him and say “son, this ain’t my first rodeo”, but that sarcasm at the end had him step back mentally to see where all this was heading. Either that or the frolicking in his stomach was altering his own sarcastic response.

He smirked, sharp and not at all warm, and gestured for the man to proceed. Suffice to say that nothing happened to or around him while he took a shower (corpse inspected the bedroom and walk-in wardrobe for any bugs or suspicious-looking objects) and when he came out of the bathroom, he didn’t even acknowledge the other’s presence as he went into his wardrobe and dressed for success.

Or for another day impersonating a shark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For route A, which includes quintessence and angst, proceed to chapter 3  
> For route B, which includes a lunch date and soulmates, proceed to chapter 6


	3. Keitor 2A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their way to a meeting, Lotor and Keith are attacked

The rest of his morning routine was uneventful, or as monotonous as it could be with his brand-new corpse lurking in the corner of every room he walked into. He hadn’t had a single moment to himself since the trial began, and he still wasn't quite used to having his every move scrutinized and reported on as if he was some kind of experiment. Some semblance of normalcy, or at least familiarity, proved impossible when the pair eyes tasked with monitoring his progress changed before he could bother putting a name to the face, or corpse, as he’d dubbed the militarized wards Kolivan sent his way, but then again, that was the unfortunate reality of the business he’d found himself in. Whether he liked it or not was of no importance—the fact remained, he couldn’t allow himself to grow fond of anyone with an expiration date he could see as clearly as if the numbers were tattooed onto their forehead.

This one, however, possessed a certain air Lotor couldn’t quite place. It was far more than a unique sense of moxie that caught his attention, and it definitely wasn’t his admittedly good looks (after all, Lotor wasn’t blind, however, he knew only too well that attractiveness got you nowhere in this line of work) but there was some small, easily overlooked detail that made him feel that this time would be different, that in a week’s time he’d still be around, keeping a diligent eye on him. Lotor was quick to dismiss the comforting spark of hope the notion provided him—it wouldn’t do him any good, especially if time proved him wrong.

As he slid into his dress shirt, Lotor noticed the reddened line marring his otherwise flawless skin had begun to spread from his shoulder and along his collarbone. The discomfort he’d felt after waking had not returned, yet Lotor could only assume he had, in fact, strained himself during his workout session, and he’d surely be feeling sore later in the day. Although the new corpse seemed respectful enough of his privacy and let him dress in peace, Lotor’s fingers became quicker in their mission to button up his shirt as quickly as possible, covering up any evidence before a pair of eyes caught glimpse of something they shouldn’t have and raised questions Lotor didn’t want to answer.

Unfortunately, fate seemed to find some sort of twisted amusement in outing him. In the midst of donning a tie, his deft fingers working the expensive silk fabric with practiced ease, a jolt of pain shot through his being, running along his chest and over to his shoulder and making his entire arm spasm as raw anguish coursed through his muscles and down to his fingertips. Try as he might, Lotor couldn’t suppress the low groan that escaped his lips as his unaffected arm acted on its own accord, clutching his afflicted limb as if pressure might alleviate at least some of the agony he struggled to relate to anything he’d experienced before. And just like that, the fierce pang surging through his muscles disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving a residual ache in its wake.

As if matters couldn’t get worse, the corpse’s reflection appeared in the mirror, standing in the threshold behind him. His cobalt eyes were riddled with concern—a presence Lotor didn’t care to acknowledge.

“Is something the matter?” His voice held a touch of softness Lotor found uncharacteristic of a man with a strict, militant background, but he ignored that thought for the time being. Instead, he forced himself to let go of his arm in favor of resuming his earlier efforts in fixing his tie. Soreness lingered in his arm as he moved, but the sensation was a far cry from the pain he’d felt a moment ago, and he managed to finish dressing without giving himself away any further, or so he thought.

“It's nothing," was Lotor's instant reply. Kolivan was on his case enough as it was, he certainly didn't need another reason for a lecture, or worse, to be dragged in for yet another time-consuming and exhausting physical exam. He noted the healthy glimmer of skepticism flashing across the other man’s face, but he didn’t inquire any further. Instead, he let the query go with a simple shrug of his shoulders as he reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out his phone.

“We'll need to be leaving soon,” he said with a click of his tongue as he scrolled through the device, presumably looking over Lotor’s daily schedule, “that is, if you expect to be on time for your 8 o'clock appointment.” An upward turn in the corners of his lips served as the only indication he took some sort of amusement in the notion of running late, not that Lotor knew why.

“Of course." He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes as he threw his long hair into a loose ponytail, carelessly flipping his hair behind his back after he was satisfied with his appearance. Turning around, Lotor brought himself face-to-face with his newly dispatched bodyguard (for reasons he still did not understand, ‘corpse’ seemed ill-fitting for the man standing before him), only to have his breath taken away the second he allowed himself a proper look at him. Lotor decided then, that he was far more than ‘cute’, he was positively gorgeous, with messy jet-black hair that suited him perfectly just long enough to reach the back of his neck, serving as a stark contrast to his pale skin, blemished only by a faint scar painted across his right cheek.

It was only when two manicured brows furrowed together in slight confusion that Lotor realized he'd been caught staring, and sought to rectify his faux pas by casting his gaze to the side as if he couldn't be subject to a well-deserved bout of judgment if he refused to keep eye contact. Clearing his throat, Lotor gestured to the doorway where his current ward stood.

“Shall we, then?”

 

A few moments later, Lotor found himself in the back of a black Cadillac sedan. He peered out through tinted windows, quickly growing weary of the scenery the busy freeway provided him. He greatly preferred the more picturesque view of the various routes less traveled they could have taken instead, although he understood the need for a change in course only too well, as part of the measures taken to ensure any lookouts with less than amiable intentions for him or his company never caught onto his trail. Thus far the method had proved itself effective, and as those in charge tended not to mess with efficient tactics, Lotor had no other choice than to suffer through the monotonous view of the highway, which only grew more tiresome as the car came to a halt when the roads became congested with vehicles, all trying to barrel their way through the morning rush hour.

“Do you have a name?” Lotor asked after a while, if only because he had nothing better to do as they waited for traffic to move—or so he told himself.

“Would you use it?” The man he referred to as his latest corpse glanced back at him through the rear-view window, a touch of mischief lacing his voice. “You seem rather fond of ‘corpse’.”

“I might,” was the automatic quip, “if you make it through the first day.”

“It’s Keith,” the corpse, now Keith, answered after a bit, his stoic, no-nonsense expression softening as his gaze lingered on him longer than what Lotor would usually deem acceptable, but this time he didn’t mind.

“Keith.” For better or worse, Lotor missed his chance to ponder why he was so quick to accept Keith’s presence, for no sooner had Keith’s name left his lips when the ear-shattering sound of a shot ricocheting off bullet-proof glass put them both on high alert.

“Get down!” Keith was quick to react, climbing into the back seat and on top of Lotor before he could fully process what was going on. The precarious position Keith assumed straddling his thighs went completely unnoticed as Keith pulled out his own firearm from his jacket, pointing at the window, almost daring another shot to come their way. The hand holding his gun remained calm and unwavering, never pulling back on the trigger—it was an empty threat when any bullets fired would only deflect off the glass and back at them, and they both knew it.

As his mind began to clear after the initial shock, Lotor came to terms with one, irrefutable, blood-curdling fact—somewhere, a traitor hid among them. With how meticulous his organization was with altering his traveling on a daily basis, his numerous adversaries couldn’t possibly know he’d be here at this time—unless of course, the enemy had already infiltrated his corporation, and was now taking advantage of his current predicament as a sitting duck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To continue with this route, please proceed to chapter 4


	4. Keitor 3A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor figures out who the leak is. A call to Kolivan is made.

As the corpse began speaking with a low, rushed voice into his headset, Lotor’s mind was racing a mile a minute. He was going back through the recent months, examining every person he’d hired or interacted with. He analyzed every minute detail, searching, searching….and then, before he could even make it past his closest colleagues, he had his answer.

“Narti,” he growled out, teeth clenched. 

“We’re heading back. Route C-12. We need to lose these guys.” the corpse was now leaned over the driver’s seat, speaking quickly and concisely.

“Back?!” Lotor insisted, “Need I remind you, I have a very important appointment in…” he glanced at his watch, “Fifteen minutes?! I don’t have time to return home!”

The corpse gave him a withering look, clearly not phased by the anger in his tone, “These are Kolivan’s orders. I’m sure your appointment will be rescheduled.”

And that was that. The corpse went back to watching their pursuers while the driver made a series of sharp turns down barely large enough alleyways. It made the quick trip home last three times as long, but by the halfway point the threat had disappeared. 

Once back at the house, Lotor wasted no time before pounding Kolivan’s extension into his phone. He talked his foot impatiently as it rang, then scowled when a voice that was not Kolivans’s came through, “What do you need, Lotor?”

“Regris.” He responded curtly, “I need to speak with Kolivan. It is extremely urgent.”

“You do know Kolivan is very busy and doesn’t have time to listen to your selfish complaints, correct?”

Lotor groaned, “While I have many complaints I would like to make, that isn’t what this is about. Put Kolivan on the phone now.”

“Fine, fine, but if he blows up at you it is not my fault.”

The line went silent for a few moments before Kolivan barked, “This better be good, Lotor. My stress levels are through the roof right now.”

“Well it’s nice to hear from you too,” Lotor retorted in a monotone, “I just called to let you know that I’ve identified who is leaking my schedule.”

The corpse, who had previously been watching calmly from the wall, was now on high alert, standing tensed, seemingly ready for battle. It was a bit amusing to Lotor. The poor guy was acting like mentioning the traitor would summon them to his living room.

“What proof do you have?” Kolivan asked, his voice now cautious.

“It would take too long to list all of the clues she’s dropped. But I can assure you that I have one hundred percent certainty about this.”

Kolivan swore under his breath. It wasn’t often that Lotor operated on that level of certainty. He was too cautious of a person, “Tell me their ID. I will have them dealt with swiftly.”

Lotor rattled off the string of numbers. He didn’t even have to pause to look it up. Narti was one of his close assistants, and he kept all of their information memorized.

“Noted,” Kolivan started, “Until we have this under wraps you are on house arrest.”

“What?!” Lotor shouted, losing his composure, “That is entirely unreasonable! I can take care of myself, and you already have this corpse trailing me—”

“ENOUGH!” Kolivan thundered back, “This is not negotiable, Lotor. I will contact you when I have your new schedule figured out.” 

The line went dead before Lotor could even open his mouth again. He huffed and threw his phone on the couch in frustration, flopping down beside it seconds later. Then he turned his glare on the corpse, who was slowly falling back out of his tolerance.

“You know about this didn’t you? I wouldn’t even be surprised if you had a hand in it.”

The corpse shrugged, “It’s what will ensure your safety the best. Your homes location, discrete appearance, and security system are all perfect for keeping you safe. If you have somebody after you staying here is the logical choice.”

“And you’ll be here to babysit me the whole time, I presume?”

A silent nod was his only reply. Lotor could tell he wouldn’t get any further with this guy than he could with Kolivan, so he stuck to putting out intimidating energy as he glared. 

It didn’t take very long for his gaze to wander, traveling down toned curves and around his exquisite build. His eyes flitted up to the corpse’s face, as flawless and beautiful as he’d noted earlier. His mouth quirked up in a small smirk.

If he had to be stuck at home with an infuriating guard, he may as well have fun with it.

He stood from the couch and came to stand on front of the corpse, who watched him warily. Then he lifted a hand and gingerly cupped the other man’s cheek, “You know, Kolivan usually sends brutish, scarred, mountains of men to guard me. It’s not every day that such a beautiful guard comes my way.”

“Sir, I would advise you not to attempt to flirt with me. It’s unprofessional,” but Lotor could hear the hesitation in his voice, could see the light dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“Perhaps. But then again I never did agree to a professional relationship. And surely Kolivan knew what he was doing when he sent someone so clearly my type~” he was leaning closer bit by bit, relishing how flustered the corps was getting as he did so.

“Sir...this is…” How cute. He was running out of words. 

“Are you saying you don’t wish to kiss me right now?” Lotor practically purred. The corpse’s eyes were now wide, his breathing shallow as he held up a hand, frozen on the way to attempt to push Lotor away.

“No,” he breathed out, barely audible, but Lotor wasted no time with confirming the word as he closed their lips together. Maybe house arrest wouldn’t be so bad after all…

Or so he thought just before the burning in his shoulder came back full force, causing him to clutch it, falling to his knees. It was white hot and throbbing, fiercer than any injury he could remember sustaining before.

“Lo...tor….” the corpse grunted from above, causing Lotor to look up at the use of his name. 

Keith was gripping his own shoulder as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the final chapter in this route, please proceed to chapter 5!


	5. Keitor 4A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor pays a visit to an old relative.

How was this possible? 

“What the hell?” Lotor gasped, staring horrified into Keith’s face. He wasted no time, immediately reaching out to move Keith’s hand out of the way. 

“What are you-” Keith couldn’t finish his thought before Lotor ripped away the fabric on Keith’s shirt, revealing a scar similar to the one he himself carried.

“How long have you had this?” Lotor demanded. 

“I- I don’t-” The younger man looked terrified. 

“How long?” 

“This morning!” He finally cried. “This morning, when I woke up, before I came here. I don’t know what it is, I thought it was just some cut I didn’t notice from when I was training. But it’s been getting bigger all day… I don’t know what’s happening!” 

Gears began rapidly turning through Lotor’s head. None of this made sense. What the hell was this thing? 

“The same thing is happening to you, isn’t it?” Keith asked. Of course Keith would know, he’d heard Lotor grunt in pain earlier. It wouldn’t take a genius to put two and two together. 

“Yes. Yes, the same thing is happening to me. It started this morning, just like you. I don’t know what it is, either.” 

Keith put a fist over his mouth, brow furrowed and tense. The two sat in silence, both contemplating what it could be that was happening to them. “When the mark started to grow, I thought maybe it was some sort of… timer that they put on all the bodyguards you hire. You call us all ‘corpses’, so I thought maybe you knew what our expiration date was. You know, rotate through the guards so information can’t get leaked as easily.” 

Lotor was horrified at the notion. “You truly thought that we just murder our employees when their time is up? And you signed up for the job anyways?”

“Of course not! It was just an idea I had after the fact, and it’s not like there was anything I could do about it at that point. Besides, when I heard you grunting and saw you holding your shoulder, I figured out pretty quickly that wasn’t the answer. It was just a stupid theory.” 

As Lotor thought about it, though, he started to think that maybe it wasn’t a stupid theory. They’d just discovered Narti had been leaking their information. Was it possible…? 

“Oh no.” 

Keith looked up from the ground, eyes widening at Lotor. “What is it?” 

“Perhaps your theory isn’t so stupid.” His mind went back to his last physical examination, all of the tests he had to take and shots he had to endure. Could it be possible that there was more than one leak besides Narti?

“Earlier, I figured out that my dear friend Narti has been leaking information to my location. But it hadn’t crossed my mind to consider who she was leaking the information to. And, if my suspicions are correct as to who she’s working for, then there are definitely more leaks in my system than just her.” 

“Who do you think she’s working for?” Keith asked. 

Lotor sighed. “My mother.” 

\--- 

Becoming a dealer in Quintessence wasn’t a career path you choose for yourself, it was something you were born into. The experimental drug that supposedly could regenerate life itself in any ill patient was heavily guarded, sought after, and sold only by the elite families who discovered it. 

It was like a dynasty, where each family kept their shares securely locked and squared away. No one got into the business without knowing the right people and then some, but even then they had no hopes of making it to the highest tiers of the industry. 

For Lotor, Quintess Inc. was an inheritance, and becoming the CEO was the result of his father suddenly dying out of the blue. Perhaps he should have mourned the death like a good son would, but all he saw was a golden opportunity: to take the empire his father had created and remake it into something that could help society as a whole, not just those high enough to pay for it. 

The problem for Lotor was his mother, Honerva, known as Haggar to her business associates. Many people, including her, believed she should take over Quintess instead of her son. Lotor knew how vicious she was in this industry, and refused to sit idly by for who knows how many more years before he claimed the title that was rightfully his. 

So, instead, he did something no one had done in years: He’d initiated a Trial. Trials were basically the reset buttons of Quintessence companies. Someone, usually a disgruntled child, challenges the current head of the company and claims that they are more fit for the job than their predecessor, and for one month, they run the company, business as usual, with the stipulation that their life in that time is completely forfeit. Anyone, including other company heads, can also try to take down the person on trial, as a company CEO wiped out by another means they gain that entire business. 

It was risky, as the last time a trial had been held the challenger quickly ended up dead, but Lotor believed he was strong enough to survive. He had much more to gain than lose, and saw it a perfect opportunity to establish his name in an industry many believed he had no place in. 

“I knew, of course, my mother would be one of the ones after my life,” Lotor told Keith, “but I figured that she would be sneakier than this, and the people coming after my life by shooting down my car were simply the heads of D. Altea or Diabazaal and Co.”

Keith ran a hand through his dark hair, contemplating. “So if your mother was the one that sent people after you today, then what does that have to do with out shoulders?” 

“She’s playing at all angles,” Lotor told him. “She knew that those goons would never actually succeed, but we’d be so distracted by them, pointing fingers at other industries, that we’d never stop to notice what was going on here,” he placed his hand gently over his shoulder. 

“And… what is going on here?”

“I believe she’s injected us with corrupted quintessence, sending in her spies in to conduct our medical exams. You had to have one before you were officially hired, didn’t you?” 

Keith nodded, understanding dawning on him. “And at the rate these marks are growing, we’ll easily be dead before the end of the month.” 

“Exactly.” 

“So how do we stop this? Can we give ourselves pure quintessence?” 

Lotor thought for a moment, but shook his head. “No, I believe my mother is smart enough to know we might do something like that. I’m fairly certain any quintessence we injected into ourselves would become corrupted, and the process would just speed up.” 

“Then what?” 

Lotor didn’t know. Would a confrontation with Haggar be successful? Or would it lead to their premature death? Lotor liked to think his mother still had enough humanity left not to murder her son in the flesh, but nothing would surprise him at this point. Still, she was their only lead, and Lotor suspected she would be the only one to know how to reverse what was happening to them.  
“I’m not sure, but I believe a visit to my mother is necessary.” 

Keith shot up from his place on the couch. “Are you crazy? We can’t go after her! That would be hanging her your life on a silver platter.” 

Lotor stood up as well, towering over Keith. “There isn’t any other option. I have no idea what the makeup of this corrupted quintessence is, and there isn’t enough time for me to figure it out for myself. I have to go to her medical labs. I know all of her information, if I can access the systems I can find what it is that’s hurting us and find a way to stop it.”

Adamantly, Keith shook his head. “Sir, I cannot let you do this. It’s my job to protect you, and while I understand what you’re saying, it’s too dangerous.” 

“Such a shame,” Lotor whispered sadly, lifting a hand to cup Keith’s face. “I really hoped you would come with me. I hate to have to do this.” Keith’s eyes widened, mouth beginning to form a question. Before he could speak, Lotor moved, bringing his other hand in a slice to Keith’s neck. 

He was out instantly, and Lotor caught him before he hit the ground. Lotor laid Keith down on the couch. There wouldn’t be much time before he woke up, so Lotor had to move quickly. 

Lotor paused at the door, taking one last glance at the corpse behind him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Don’t be too mad at me for this.” 

\--

It should have been near impossible to sneak into Honerva’s facilities, but Lotor’s Altean genes made it easy for him to blend in, and his natural confidence made sure no one questioned what he was doing. 

Lotor knew these hallways by heart. He’d grown up running through the corridors, wearing lab coats entirely too-large, visiting pretend patients and giving them pretend cures to pretend diseases. 

It was a time when his parents had been heroes, and quintessence truly had been something that gave life. 

Now, the halls were alive with a colder energy. Maybe it would have been smarter for Lotor to have waited, formulated a better plan, at the very least come when the facility was closed, but he was on a near-death high, and all caution was thrown to the wind. He winded through the building, keeping a careful ear for anyone who might be approaching. 

It didn’t take him long to find the room he was looking for. There were tons of testing and experimental rooms in Honerva’s facility, but there was one specific room that had always been hers. She always did her most important research in it, and she never let anyone else enter. 

Clock ticking, Lotor entered the dark room, searching high and low for anything that could be a clue. There had to be something, some sort of sample or coding sheet, anything that could give him an idea of what it was he was dealing with. 

“You always used to call me before you stopped by,” a voice said from the doorway. “Too busy to say hello to your mother?” 

Lotor stopped his movements, careful to not freeze or seem caught off guard. “Of course not, I just thought you’d appreciate the surprise.” 

Honerva entered the room fully, closing the door behind her. “It isn’t nice to come here uninvited, Lotor. This is no longer your territory.” 

“Well, I don’t find the pain in my shoulder so nice, either.” Lotor retorted, remaining his rummaging through the cabinets. “So maybe you can let me find what I’m looking for and we’ll call it even.” 

Honerva scoffed. “Really? You came all the way here for that simple thing? I’m disappointed in you, Lotor. I thought you’d be bright enough to fix that one on your own without having to steal the solution. How do you expect to run a company fueled on quintessence when you can’t even understand it?” 

Lotor turned to look at his mother, and the sight of her sent a chill down his spine. Her addiction to quintessence was something that started long before they’d become estranged, but the damage it was doing to her had grown rapidly since the last he’d seen her. Her eyes had sunken in, skin sickly and thin. She looked withered, like a gust of wind could shatter her. 

“I understand it just fine. But you put more lives than just mine on the line, and your idea of quintessence is so far corrupt I hope to never have to deal with it’s kind in my business.”

“Your idea of quintessence is lacking. You are naive if you think simply giving will allow anyone to live.” 

Lotor shook his head. “No, you are naive if you believe that you must corrupt and destroy in order to survive. Quintessence is supposed to help people, not turn them into monsters.” 

Honerva sneered, beginning to approach Lotor. “You see may see me as a monster, but I am so much more powerful than that. You would freely give quintessence to anyone who asked for it, but the true nature of power has always come from taking. Conquering. My gift to you was never intended to kill you, it was made to let you live. I thought you’d be strong enough to feel it’s power, survive it, and come to your senses. But it seems I was foolish enough to have that sort of faith in you.” 

Lotor’s eyes widened, realization dawning on him. His mother hadn’t given him and Keith corrupted quintessence, she’d given them pure quintessence, just an extreme overdose of it. She was trying to do to Lotor what she had done to herself: push his body to the limits of what it could handle, and then some. Dying of quintessence overdose wasn’t unheard of. Honerva must have thought Keith would die from it from the initial shock, whereas Lotor’s body would eventually adapt due to previous exposure to the drug. 

How Keith hadn’t already died, Lotor didn’t know. But he knew what he’d have to do in order to make sure he didn’t: he’d have to drain the excess quintessence out of both of them. 

“You are insane, woman.” Lotor said. “What happened to you? There was once a time when you didn’t believe the vile words coming out of your mouth. You believed there was something good to be found here.” 

Honerva took another step forward. “I learned, I grew, just like I’d hoped you would. It’s such a shame, having to look upon your own child and see what a disappointment they are.” 

She approached Lotor quickly, coming terrifyingly close. Lotor braced himself for whatever was about to happen, blindly putting faith into the idea that whatever she planned on doing to him would not kill him. 

He never found out what her plan was. A blur of something flew in, and in an instant, Honerva was down on the ground, unconscious. 

“Lotor!” 

His eyes adjusted to the new scene in front of him, and Lotor gaped at the person in front of him. 

“Keith!” Lotor sputtered, shocked. “How did you-?” 

“There’s no time,” Keith interrupted, taking Lotor’s hand and pulling him up. We have to leave now. More of your mom’s men are on their way. Did you find what you came for?” 

“I- yes. I did!” 

Keith nodded, then began dragging Lotor out of the room. The two ran as fast as they could, weaving back through the halls. Numbly, Lotor registered the passed out bodies scattered through the building. Keith had done a thorough job getting to Lotor. Behind them, voices began to shout, signaling their location, but Keith gave them no heed. 

They burst through one of the side exits, where a car was waiting for them. “Go!” Keith shouted to the driver, pushing Lotor into the car. “We have to get out of here now!” 

Keith slammed the door closed behind him, and the car sped off. He slumped back into his seat, running a hand through his hair. “Why the hell did you knock me out, Lotor? You could have been killed.” 

“You wouldn’t come with me, and you should have known there was no other option. Honestly, I would have rather had you there with me.” 

Keith groaned into his hands. “You are such an ass. Did you at least find anything? Or did we both just almost die for nothing?” 

Lotor smiled, pulling Keith’s hands away from his face and placing them in his own. He looked into Keith’s eyes, hope blooming, knowing that he’d be able to save them both, maybe not from the long term threat, but at least from the one in their shoulders. “Yes. I found something. We’re going to be okay, Keith. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of this route! Thank you all for reading!  
> If you'd like to read the second Keitor route, please proceed to chapter 6.  
> Please be sure to leave a review if you enjoyed!


	6. Keitor 2B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interesting event occurs in the elevator. The duo go out for lunch.

The man appears at his side before he manages to start buttoning his shirt. Wordlessly he hands over a sleek bullet-proof vest. Lotor shrugs the silk shirt back off his shoulders and pulls the vest on, trying not to scoff. If he only knew, the thought brings just a twitch of a smile to his face. 

The smile is quickly wiped away by another pang of unpleasant pressure from his shoulder as his bodyguard steps into his space to properly fasten the vest. “So what do I call you?” He asks, against his better judgment. They never seem to last long, it's best not to get attached, but this one seems… different.

“Keith,” he supplies gruffly, standing back and nodding at his own handiwork. 

Lotor does scoff at that. “It's not a very original codename, though I suppose it'll do.” 

Keith frowns. “It isn't a codename. It's name name,” the seriousness with which he makes the claim draws the smile back to Lotor's lips. 

“And a lovely one, I'm sure your mother is proud of it,” Lotor drawls lazily, laughing at himself for his unusually playful mood. 

Keith doesn't react with words, merely stepping back to allow Lotor to finish dressing. Appraising himself in the mirror, he flashes another toothy smirk at his reflection before grabbing his briefcase and gesturing for Keith to follow. 

His path is barred before he can open the door. “I need to survey the area before you exit,” Keith explains. The grip he has on Lotor's forearm sends electricity down his spine and another sharp stab of pain into his shoulder. 

He moves away from the door. “Of course,” Lotor answers, stepping back so Keith can leave first. 

A moment later, the door opens again. “It's clear,” Keith murmurs, holding the door for him to leave. 

A car is waiting in the driveway. Keith looks at Lotor, fixing him in place with his stare as he goes to speak with the driver. After a quiet conversation that Lotor can't hear, Keith moves around the car and opens the back door for him. 

The ride to work is quiet and tense but his sore shoulder relaxes against the plush leather as he studies his new bodyguard from the corner of his eye. He finds himself hoping this one sticks around awhile. 

They arrive at the main doors to his office building and Lotor badges them in with his card. Keith's eyes scour the entryway for anything remiss as they head for the elevator. 

Lotor walks in first, hearing Keith grumble behind him. “Your firm leads security here, too. It's quite alright.” He assures, pressing the button for the top floor. The ride is awkward at best, but it gives Lotor another chance to study the man in more detail. He's actually rather handsome, the thought crosses his mind unbidden and he tears his gaze away, determined not to allow himself the indulgence. 

His thoughts and his gaze are drawn back to Keith as the elevator dings three floors early. Keith draws his gun. “Is that really necessary?” Lotor balks as he tries to put himself between the gun and the door, but Keith stiff-arms him back into the wall with surprising strength and speed. His shoulder burns at the contact with the metal. 

The doors slide open, revealing an alarmed young man in a slightly wrinkled suit. “You know what? I'll just get the next one,” he says with an awkward laugh as he holds up his hands, seeing the gun levelled at his chest. 

“Sorry, Dr. Holt. He's new,” Lotor all but growls, giving Keith a stern glare. 

Keith doesn't falter. “He's not cleared,” Keith deadpans, hitting the close door button. He lowers his gun arm, but doesn't holster the weapon. 

Lotor smooths the lapels of his suit disapprovingly. “Honestly? You'd discharge a firearm in a metal box? Do you want to blow our eardrums?” 

He hears the safety click and the shuffle as Keith puts it away. “Better to have blown eardrums than brains,” the quiet surety in his voice gives Lotor pause. They don't speak on the way to his office.

The morning slogs by at an agonizingly slow pace. Meetings that should have been emails, emails that need to be meetings, and an endless stream of brown-nosing interns and middle managers plague him. Keith is an ever-present shadow three steps behind and two to the right through it all. It's exhausting. 

“I think I'm taking some personal time. I need an afternoon to myself,” he doesn't look at Keith as he says it, setting up his out of office auto-reply for the rest of the workday. It won't stop the constant barrage of emails, but at least it'll be annoying to everyone bothering him constantly. He turns his phone off just for good measure. 

Keith already has a tablet in his hands. “Where to?” He asks, navigation app already loaded. 

“A walk along the beach might be nice,” Lotor muses, already knowing that Keith won't allow it. 

“No can do. Too crowded, too exposed,” he's making notes with his phone in the hand not holding the tablet. Lotor's impressed by the show of dexterity. 

“Well, lunch on the pier at least, then,” Lotor agrees, the negotiation tactic working like a charm.

Keith nods, turning the tablet to face Lotor and pointing out two places near the pier. “Which one?” 

Lotor hums and taps his chin as he thinks, drawing it out and drawing Keith's eyes to his face. The faint dusting of a blush blossoms across Keith's sharp cheekbones and Lotor can't stop the hint of a smug smile. “You'll have to sweep the whole place, I'm sure. The smaller one will do,” his eyes don't leave Keith's as he speaks. 

“Right,” Keith says, voice clipped. He pulls the number of the restaurant and calls, explaining tersely that Lotor will be arriving in 20 minutes and the place needs to be cleared out. 

Lotor is ready to leave, standing by the door with his briefcase, as Keith finishes the conversation. He presses another few buttons and slides his phone in one pocket and tablet in another. 

They don't speak as Keith walks out in front of him peering up and down the hallway before motioning for him to move. His shadow follows him down the hallways, through another trip on the elevator and through the front doors of his office. 

It's the same car, same driver, so Keith holds the door open and secures Lotor inside before walking around to get in next to him. “You don't talk much, do you?” Lotor asks, turning to look at him. 

Keith's eyes flit away from the car immediately to their left to look at Lotor. “Nope,” he responds flatly. 

Lotor shakes his head and laughs. The rest of the drive is nearly silent. The driver drives, Keith surveys the road, his head swiveling to assess for threats, and Lotor watches him with a keen interest. His shoulder throbs again. 

He lets Keith do a sweep of the restaurant, question the waiter, and lock the doors while he peruses the menu and then selects something at random. He can't hear the ocean from his table, but he can see it. It's soothing. 

Keith sits down and Lotor smiles, handing over the menu. “Have lunch,” he insists with a smile. 

It surprises him when Keith agrees. The abandoned restaurant and the breath-taking view make the meal feel intimate. “We're stuck together until this trial is over,” Lotor starts, not adding or someone kills you trying to get to me, “Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?” 

Keith shrugs as he picks at his pasta. “Not much to tell,” his eyes keep roving back to the locked front doors. 

“How does one get into the private security business?” Lotor suggests, prodding Keith along for information. 

Keith turns back to him. “Family business. Kolivan’s my stepdad.” Lotor's eyebrows raise in surprise. “What?” Keith grumbles, eyes narrowing. 

“Nothing, I just didn't realize Kolivan was married. I've been his client for a long time and he never mentioned a wife or son,” Lotor explains, more interested than suspicious. Keith just shrugs.

Lotor doesn't manage to get more information out of him before a loud clattering noise from the kitchen startles both of them. “Under the table,” Keith demands quietly, immediately putting himself between Lotor and the kitchen doors. His gun is already back in his hands, safety off. “Now!” Keith whispers harshly. 

Lotor dives under the table just as the doors open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To continue with this route, proceed to chapter 7


	7. Keitor 3B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pain in Lotor's shoulder escalates.

No sooner had Lotor's knees hit the carpeted floor before the soft, almost inaudible 'thud’ of rubber-soled shoes moving across the room and toward their table pricks at his ears. The pair of feet he watches approach from under the table come to an abrupt halt about twenty feet away from them.

“Sir?" The notable quiver in the waiter's voice suggests he had not taken notice of the firearm Keith surely has aimed at his forehead. “We have a strict 'no weapons’ policy, so if you could kindly put the gun away, that would be most appreciated.”

“Everything all right back there?" Keith's as concise as ever, but it's obvious he's referring to whatever commotion was going on in the kitchen a moment ago. Lotor can't tell if Keith listened to the server's request, or if he still has his gun out and ready, but given what he already knows about Keith, he would be willing to bet money on the latter.

“Yes, sir." Lotor realizes then that he doesn't recognize the voice answering Keith's questions—it’s logical to think their waiter had needed someone else to cover the table, but Lotor, always one for suspicion, can't help but wonder if the newcomer has anything to do with the clattering in the kitchen. “Nothing more than a minor spill—we’ve recently hired a new sous chef, and they’re still trying to get their bearings around the kitchen.” He takes a single step forward before stopping once more. “If you wouldn't mind, sir?" He asks, giving Lotor the satisfaction of knowing he's right.

A period of silence follows, which amuses Lotor more than anything else. Even without seeing the scene play out, Lotor can almost see the cogs turning in Keith's mind as he makes his decision. Lotor estimates that a solid minute passes before the waiter comes closer and sets their meal on the table, meaning that Keith must have resheathed his gun. No words are exchanged before the waiter retreats back into the kitchen. 

“You can come back up now," Keith says only after the man Lotor still suspects is a new waiter disappears behind the galley door. 

“How very kind of you," Lotor remarks, sarcasm lacing his voice as he crawls out from under the table and reclaims his proper spot in a chair, looking as poised as ever. “I'd begun to think you were going to make me take my meal on the floor.” That comment earns him a well-deserved glare from Keith, who otherwise remains silent as he busies himself with unwrapping a set of silverware from a cloth napkin.

“Hold on a sec," Keith cuts in before Lotor has the chance to place the fresh linen over his lap. He looks up in Keith's direction, only to find Keith's unrolled his own set of silverware, the napkin pulled apart and carelessly tossed to the side, highlighting Keith's apparent lack of manners. Lotor doesn't need an explanation, it's a standard part of the protocol that every bodyguard he's had follows to the letter—part of that being a requirement to taste-test every meal he has, even if it's something he prepares himself. Lotor no longer thinks anything of it. In fact, this time it feels natural—he makes a mental note of asking Keith to dine with him in the future, telling himself it's only to give his life a sense of normalcy, but deep down, he can't help but feel there's something more to his desire.

Again, a sudden inexplicable pain strikes his shoulder, shooting across the entire blade and down his arm. In spite of his efforts to remain calm and keep Keith unaware of his predicament, this time the jolt is too much, rendering him unable to suppress a grimace. When the anguish becomes just bearable enough for him to redirect his attention towards Keith, he’s ready to make some excuse. Not even Lotor knows what’s about to come out of his mouth, but his explanation, as flimsy as it surely would have been, dies on the tip of his tongue when he realizes that Keith hasn’t noticed on him yet. Like the good soldier he’s trained to be, he’s preoccupied with his job of keeping Lotor alive, which at the moment, consists of making sure doesn’t meet an untimely end via poisoning.

This time, however, the process isn’t that simple. He can’t explain himself, but Lotor knows that something is amiss. More specifically, Lotor gets the sense that the food (he's far too frantic to process what he's ordered) isn't what it should be, that something's deathly wrong.

“Stop!" A distinct note of terror laces his voice as he moves on his own accord, reaching out and abruptly knocking the fork out of his hand. The force sends the utensil flying across the room, where it eventually hits the wall with a subtle 'clink’ before falling gracelessly to the floor.

“What are you doing?" To his complete chagrin, his hasty move sends a new wave of anguish coursing through his arm, causing his face to contort in pain as he instinctively grabs for his shoulder with his other hand. And of course, this time he has Keith’s full attention.

“Is your shoulder okay?” Keith’s asks, his voice much softer than before, carrying the faintest hint of concern.

“I’m all right,” Lotor replies through grit teeth. “Just don't eat that."

“Fine." The relief Lotor feels when Keith doesn't question him about why he can't eat is undercut when Keith stands up, makes his way over to Lotor's side of the table, and unceremoniously lands in the empty chair next to him. “But like hell I believe that sad excuse of a lie," Keith all but snaps. "Let me see it.”

Without bothering to explain himself further, Keith reaches forward, showing no regard for Lotor's personal space as he pulls on the lapel of his blazer before pulling his shirt to the side (a difficult feat when Keith doesn’t bother with unbuttoning his shirt or undoing his tie first) just enough to examine his shoulder.

“I told you, I’m—” He’s cut off by the shock that overwhelms him when his gaze lands on his own shoulder. This morning the mark had been nothing more than a red spot marring his otherwise flawless skin, a mild irritation caused by over-exerting himself during his morning routine. Lotor had been so sure of it only a few hours ago, but now, he'd be lying if he said he held that same amount of confidence.

The mark had grown exponentially, evolving from a simple red line into a shape Lotor had never seen before, nor can even begin to describe. Perhaps even more startling, is the coloring, which had changed from an angry shade of crimson into a radiant, almost iridescent shade of violent that glows brilliantly underneath his clothing.

“Forget about it,” Lotor nearly growls after regaining his composure, none-too-gently pulling away from Keith and readjusting his clothes, making himself look as presentable as ever in a matter of seconds. “It’s nothing.”

“It isn't nothing,” Keith counters, but the annoyance in his voice falls flat. “It looks unbearable.” There’s more than simple worry or sympathy riddling his tone. It’s deeper than that. Lotor hesitates to put a label on it, but it almost sounds like empathy, as if Keith understands what he’s going through, at least on some level.

“Do you know about this?” Again, Lotor finds that he doesn’t have a reason to think Keith might possess any sort of knowledge regarding the mark on his shoulder, but at this point, he shouldn’t be surprised, not when every part of this scenario winds up more unfathomable than the last.

“Not exactly,” Keith admits, “I just," he trails off as he reaches up to loosen his necktie, obviously deciding to show Lotor what he knows, rather than try and explain himself. An unnerving sense of dread looms over him as Keith's nimble fingers fumble with the fine silk fabric, giving Lotor the impression that a tie isn't a part of his normal everyday attire. Once the knot pulls loose, Keith makes quick work of unfastening the buttons of his burgundy dress shirt, precariously pulling the buttons apart and revealing a pale, albeit handsomely sculpted chest well-defined with toned muscle.

For better or worse, Lotor doesn’t have time to marvel over Keith’s attractive form, not when a distracting glimmer comes into his field of view.

“Appeared just this morning, didn’t it?” Keith’s query brings Lotor back to the matter at hand, compelling him to stare at the radiant mark that matches his perfectly on Keith’s shoulder.

It’s only when his mouth runs dry that Lotor realizes his mouth has been left ajar for far too long.

“What the hell is going on?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To continue with this route, proceed to chapter 8.


	8. Keitor 4B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth about Lotor's shoulder pain is revealed.

Keith sighs, glancing around the restaurant before speaking in a low tone, “Let’s go back to your home. We can discuss there.”

Lotor shrugs, standing without correcting his attire, “Fine by me. It’s not as though I will be able to finish my lunch.”

As they make to exit the building, the server comes bustling from the back once more, “Sir! You didn’t—” Just as before, he freezes at the sight of Keith’s drawn weapon. 

“Didn’t what?” His voice is calm, steady, venomous, “Didn’t pay for the contaminated food you tried to feed my client? Don’t make me laugh. Give the chef my regards, and tell them to be thankful that I’m leaving you alive.” Lotor cuides himself for considering how attractive Keith is in that moment.

Keith turns, cutting in front of Lotor to survey the street before motioning for them to continue. It’s a short walk back to the heavily secured penthouse, and soon Lotor is pacing his living room while Keith leans casually against the wall.

“You somehow don’t seem very surprised by the inhuman glowing of your skin,” He says curtly, trying not to be too accusatory. 

“I am. Not really about the mark itself, but that it’s on my shoulder.”

Lotor groans loudly, reaching up to press his fingers into his brow, “Didn’t we come here to discuss this? Please stop being so cryptic.”

“Will you believe me if I’m frank with you?”

Lotor bites back the joking response he so desperately wishes to give. He does take some pause on considering the question seriously. Will he trust this man? They have only met just recently, and he really doesn’t know much about him. He should be trustworthy, since he was sent but Koliva, but there isn’t a way to be sure. And yet…

“Yes. I will.”

Keith’s had reaches up to gently brush over his shoulder, “It’s a legend that’s passed down in my family. Or at least that’s what my mom says. She used to tell me about it at bedtime, and I kinda assumed it was just a fairy tale…”

“What is the legend?” Lotor is trying to listen patiently, but he really wishes that Keith would cut to the chase.

“It’s stupid...I—” he cuts off at Lotor’s glare, “Fine. A really long time ago there was a soldier who fell in love with a princess. Being on the royal guard, he eventually worked his way up to be on her personal guard. They got to know each other, became close….fell in love...and the king found out. He wasn’t happy. His daughter was supposed to marry a prince, not be soiled by a lowly knight. The knight was executed, and as his last wish he asked to have a tattoo on his shoulder. It seemed stupid, but what people didn’t know was that he’d make a deal with the princess. She got the same tattoo so that they could find each other in their next life. Now every few hundred years someone in my family is born with this glowing mark...but they can only see it when they find their princess.”

Lotor just stares. That’s...a lot to take in. And Keith is right; it does sound like a fairy tale. “So what you’re saying…”

“I’m the knight,” Keith says bluntly, “You’re the princess.”

Lotor’s head hurts. He takes a step back, puzzling over the words in his mind. When he speaks, itis slow and deliberate, “I need some time alone to think. It has been a long day. I’ll talk to you in the morning.” 

He disappears into his room, stripping to his boxers and sinking into his bed. It’s only the late afternoon, but he feels as though he’s been up for much longer. So much for a relaxing afternoon. Now on top of the stress of his never ending work cycle he has this new development repeating in his head.

“I’m the knight. You’re the princess.”

Lotor is no stranger to relationships with men. It is hardly the fact that this supposed fated lover is male that has him stressed. It is the impossibility of it all that has his thoughts muddled. Reincarnation isn’t real. When people die they just...die. And yet he can’t deny that the glowing violet mark is still there, pulsing with a low ache every moment he is in the same vicinity as the other man. It makes it hard to deny. 

But then again, accepting it as truth raises even more questions. Are they going to pursue a relationship? Lotor certainly wouldn’t complain about having him around in a less professional setting, but is that what Keith wants? If it is...what will happen to his bodyguard position? With Lotor’s current track record he can’t fathom keeping on a corpse he’d grown close to. Yet Keith seems like the dutiful type, someone who wouldn’t want to leave his post for such a silly reason.

He groans and berries his head into his pillow. There’s just too much to consider, and he needs a nap.

The next morning Lotor emerges from his shower full of determination. Keith is standing post by the front door, seemingly as a calm and collected as when he first arrived. Lotor isn’t sure how he’s managing that with the knowledge that his destined pair is in the vicinity, but he tries to match the nonchalance he is exuding.

He clears his throat, causing Keith to look his way, “If this legend your mother told you is true, and it would appear that is is, then we are fated to be lovers, correct?”

Keith huffs, a smirk spreading slowing across his lips. Lotor finds he likes that expression, “Probably. I’m not a big fan of ‘fate’ though.”

Again with the indirect answers, “What does that mean?”

Keith walks up to stand directly in front of Lotor, inching his face closer until they can feel each others’ breath, “It means that I don’t care about some glowing tattoo. If you want me to fall in love with you you’re going to have to work for it.”

Lotor can’t stop the grin that overtakes his expression. This is a challenge he is happy to accept. He reaches up to cup Keith’s face, running his thumb gently over his cheek, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The casual, familiar touch appears to catch Keith off guard. He coughs and backs back out of Lotor’s personal space, “I guess an ok place to start would be redoing our lunch. It didn’t really go that well yesterday….”

Lotor hums in agreement, “I just have one request.”

“Which is?”

“I would like to request a different security detain. It won’t do to have you on duty while we try to enjoy ourselves.”

Keith scowls, “I guess you’re right. I still want to stay as your personnel when we aren’t...on a date, though.”

Lotor drops his hand onto Keith’s head, “For now. But we’ll see how long that lasts.”

It doesn’t last long at all. The minute Kolivan realizes the nature of their relationship, Keith is reassigned. They aren’t too upset by it, though, since by this point they are scheduling outings, or in some cases nights in, at least once a week. And in no time at all Keith is going through the security clearance to move in.

The prince and his knight reunited for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the second Keitor route!  
> To begin the Lotura route, proceed to Chapter 9!  
> To begin the first Keitor route, proceed to Chapter 2!


	9. Lotura 1C

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old friend pays Lotor a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written by [dorenamryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorenamryn)

Lotor groaned as he made his way to the front door to answer the ever-persistent knocking. Who the hell was at his door at this hour? Dragging his tired feet across the cold floor, Lotor’s hand went to his shoulder, massaging the sore muscle. His eyebrows furrowed as he neared the door, and he mentally prepared himself to tell off whoever dared interrupt his morning with their ludicrous noise. He had a full day of training and various other princely duties ahead of him, but none of that would matter if he looked like he’d just crawled out of Daibazaal’s worst barber shop. Not that he’d ever been to a barber shop, of course. Lotor prided himself in being able to cut his own hair ever since he’d been old enough to be allowed near knives. 

“Seven hells,” he muttered under his breath as his right hand slid back the lock and opened the door. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, ready to spit out an angry retort, but then—

“Oh, you’re up! I was afraid that you might still be asleep at this hour, but I just couldn’t help myself,” said a voice, crisp and accented, very much alike to his own. Lotor was so taken aback that he found himself choking on his own breath, pain in his shoulder forgotten, even as the girl swept past him and into his living quarters as if they were her own. It took him awhile to process that she was still talking. “If I’m honest, I’m a bit worn out.“

She settled on his sofa, her hair fanning out behind where she rested her head on the throw pillows. She turned her face, her eyes meeting his, and a mischievous smile broke out across her features. “What?” She asked cheekily, a hint of laughter hidden in the word. “Not happy to see me? And to think, I’d travelled all this way.”

Luckily enough, it was her smile that did it. Lotor huffed as his brain finally started up again, rolling his eyes at his best friend’s antics. “Allura.” He deadpanned, his eyes devoid of all emotion as he stared her down. “You nearly gave me a stroke.”

She laughed, bright and clear, and Lotor was half-afraid that his brain would short-circuit again. It had been a good few months since he’d seen her last—they did live on different worlds, after all—and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t missed her. Allura’s presence in his life had been a constant ever since they were kids; they’d grown up together, much to their parents’ delight. He still sometimes caught his father exchanging holo-pics with King Alfor.

“Well,” Allura said, pulling Lotor out of his thoughts. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“If you’re implying that you alone have the power to form a blood clot in my brain, you are grossly overestimating yourself,” Lotor replied lightly as he walked across the room to get his comb from the dresser. He could almost feel Allura’s eyes on his back as she pouted. “Don’t pout,” he added, his tone aloof as he began to brush his hair. “It makes you seem petulant.”

He turned back, a small smile dancing on his lips as she stuck her tongue out at him from her place on the couch. Lotor only rolled his eyes again and finally chose to sit on the edge of his bed, which remained unmade thanks to Allura’s sudden arrival. Lotor couldn’t bring himself to mind. He continued to comb through his long locks, wincing a bit as his shoulder flared up again; he’d forgotten about it in his surprise at seeing his friend. Speaking of, Allura was up and by his side in an instant. It seemed that even after months apart, she could read him as easily as one of the books she always carried under her arm.

“What’s wrong?” She questioned gently, her gaze soft as it met his own. Lotor looked away.

“Don’t worry yourself about it, Princess,” he said, avoiding her stare as he continued to brush out the tangles in his hair. “It really isn’t a bother. I must have strained it during combat training, that’s all.”

“You always revert to calling me Princess when you’re hiding the truth. Let me take a look,” she replied, carefully prying the comb from his hand and setting it down on the bed beside them. He sighed, pulling up the sleeve of his loose sleep shirt and angling himself so that Allura would be able to properly inspect the area. It seemed that he really couldn’t hide anything from her. She hummed quietly as her fingers lightly skimmed across his slightly-irritated skin. “My father taught me some more advanced healing techniques recently,” Allura continued, almost absentmindedly, “I’m no expert, but perhaps I could try something to alleviate the pain.”

Lotor looked at her curiously, to which she blushed ever so slightly, her expression growing a bit sheepish. “If you’d let me try, of course,” she corrected, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“You always fiddle with your hair when you’re apprehensive,” he simply stated, glancing to the wall. “You really should be more sure of yourself. You are royalty, after all.”

His lips twitched as she sputtered, and from the corner of his eye he could see her blush growing deeper. He laughed, the sound lighthearted and warm. It was fun to tease her, sometimes. “Do your magic, Allura. If my destiny as prince of the Galra is to be your test subject, so be it.”

“Just as long as I don’t mar your pretty face, I know,” Allura chuckled, her embarrassment fading away just as quickly as it had come. Despite it all, she did seem more confident in the way she held his shoulder. Her fingers were firm against his skin as her eyebrows knit together in concentration. Lotor allowed himself a small smile. Everyone needed a confidence booster every once in a while, and he was only too happy to deliver if it meant that Allura was more sure of her own skills. 

Suddenly, a steady glow began to appear where her fingers met his flesh, the feeling of her Altean alchemy warmly coursing through his veins. He inhaled, deeply, before closing his eyes as she worked, and slowly but surely the pain in his shoulder began to ebb away until it was but a memory.

“There,” Allura breathed as she pulled away, her voice tired. She let out a deep breath, wiping her forehead with one hand. Lotor grinned, flexing his hand; his shoulder felt multitudes better, and the headache he’d felt coming on earlier had also disappeared. Allura was truly a miracle worker, he concluded, standing from the edge of the bed and walking over to the table to get her a glass of water.

“Here,” he said, setting the pitcher back on the hard surface before making his way back to the bed where she was sitting. Allura took the water and offered her thanks before downing the cool liquid in one go. Still standing, Lotor huffed when she handed him the now-empty cup. She smiled, shyly, using a thumb to wipe the excess from her lips before rising to her feet as well. Lotor took her in, a mischievous glint manifesting in his eyes.

“Well,” he started nonchalantly, purposely averting his gaze. “It seems you haven’t grown at all since I’ve seen you last.”

An angry glare was all he got in warning before she rammed her shoulder into his side and sent him careening towards the wall. He righted himself easily enough, a laugh bubbling at his lips as he shook his head and set the cup in his hand back on the table. Allura crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to a princess, you know.”

“Well then, Princess,” Lotor responded, offering her a hand and a mock-bow. “You must be terribly exhausted after your long journey, so… I could walk you to your quarters, or we could go to the dining hall for breakfast. Alternatively, we could also have a meal brought here, but that all depends on whether you’d like to sleep or eat first.” He grinned, tipping his head slightly downwards. “It’s your choice; you’re the guest in my home, after all.”

“That is most courteous of you, Prince Lotor,” she replied in kind, his name sounding almost bashful on her lips. “However, I think—“

Before Allura could voice her decision, her communicator beeped, signalling an incoming message. She faltered, slightly, a blush again dusting her cheeks at being interrupted. “I should probably get that,” she muttered, reaching for the device.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To continue with this route, proceed to chapter 10.


	10. Lotura 2C

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor runs into a familiar face while shopping.

Lotor headed back into the bathroom so Allura could take her call in privacy. Pulling at the collar of his shirt, he smiled at his reflection as the skin on his shoulder gleamed, no longer marred by the mysterious mark that had been causing him trouble. He whiled away a few minutes tidying up, fruitlessly rearranging bottles and towels until he could no longer hear Allura’s quiet voice from the other side of the door. 

He made his way back into the room and smiled cautiously at her suddenly tense and apologetic expression. “Something urgent?” He tried to keep the displeasure out of his voice as he asked. 

Allura let her head drop back against the couch with a sigh. “I was supposed to arrive last night, but we were delayed,” she wrung her hands in her lap, “I volunteered to help decorate for the Ancestor’s Night celebration, but I’ll have to spend most of the day getting supplies. I’m afraid I won’t have much time to visit until after the party.” 

Lotor felt the disappointment wash over him. An unexpected visit from Allura had brightened what he’d thought would be an otherwise dreadful day, and the prospect of spending time with her having been so cruelly and suddenly yanked out from under him seemed unjust. “I could go with you.” He offered suddenly, surprising both of them. 

She smiled at him patiently. “That’s very kind of you, but don’t you have duties to attend to?” 

He waved a dismissive hand between them. “My father doesn’t put much stock in my leadership, I’m sure my opinions won’t be missed.” Lotor said nonchalantly, striding over to sit next to her. They both knew it was an old wound, one no alchemy could mend. “I’d much rather spend the day with you,” he cleared his throat as he felt his cheeks tinge violet with blush, “helping you, than be ignored in meetings all day.” 

Her face softened as her smile widened, the corners of her eyes crinkling with sincerity. “That would be lovely, Lotor, thank you.” She said quietly, the tiredness in her eyes overshadowed only by her gratitude. 

“But first, I think,” he stood and offered her his arm, “Breakfast? A good meal and strong tea should bolster your energy.” 

Allura stood as well, looping her arm through his and gathering the hem of her dress in her free hand. “You know me too well.” She said with a laugh. “Lead me to the tea!” 

Lotor laughed with her as they exited the suite, walking in companionable silence through the halls lest he have to explain himself to any busybodies on the main thoroughfare. They came to the back entrance of the kitchen, and while the cooks were unsurprised to see him, they were thrilled to see Allura. 

Her smile brightened the overly warm room as she greeted all the cooks and servants by name. Lotor knew his father would never approve of such fraternization with the lower classes, but he found it infinitely charming and lovely. Allura truly didn’t see herself as above any of them, and it showed as she laughed along with their stories and hugged them as one would an old friend. She would be a wonderful queen someday. 

The chefs set to work preparing a veritable feast for the two of them. Lotor found himself stuffed after a few courses, but watched in amazement as Allura continued to somehow gracefully decimate the kitchen’s stocks. She raised an eyebrow as he failed to hold in a laugh. 

“Nothing, nothing. It’s been too long since we’ve had a chance to sit and eat together is all.” Lotor explained, sipping delicately at his tea. 

Allura finished her third cup and stood with a mighty stretch. “It’s been even longer since I’ve dragged you shopping.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she spoke. 

He chuckled under his breath. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten, we’re not going anywhere with perfume. Those are my only terms.” He said as he stood up, offering a thankful bow to the servant who cleared their makeshift table in the corner of the kitchen. 

Allura thanked him with a hand on his shoulder, and Lotor sympathized with the boy as he dropped a plate. She stooped to help him clean the mess before responding to Lotor’s jibe. “You’re no fun at all. It didn’t smell that bad.” 

He shook his head and offered his arm. “You weren’t the one stuck in ceremonial robes all evening, smelling of wet cat and musty carpet.” 

Allura wrinkled her nose. “Fine. No perfume then.” She finally agreed. 

“I can’t imagine you’d need any for Ancestor’s Night anyway. Perhaps candles and flowers and that sort of thing?” He asked. The Altean tradition was known on Diabazaal but not widely celebrated. 

Allura thought for a moment as they walked. “Flowers yes, though electric lights would be better than candles, there’s sure to be plenty of nunvil.” She laughed. “Coran and candles make a bad combination. He almost burned down the banquet hall on father’s birthday last year.” 

Lotor laughed along with her. “That would have been a sight to see.” He regretted missing the festivities, an unfortunate quarrel with his father had left him on a punitive diplomatic mission to a no-name colony on the outer reaches of Galra territory. Someday he was sure he’d learn the ways of his father’s temper. 

They took a private transport into the shopping district and milled around the various shops as they chatted quietly, using the time to catch up on their many months apart. Arm in arm, they whiled away the morning and early afternoon collecting supplies and confections for the evening’s celebrations. 

Lotor’s communicator had been buzzing relentlessly in his pocket, the high priority channels overriding his attempts to silence the device. Sendak had left countless furious messages and his father had gone forebodingly quiet after a few unsuccessful calls. He tried not to let it dampen the joviality of the day that had left him with sore cheeks from the innumerable smiles Allura drew to his lips as they sat down for lunch. 

“I think that’s everything.” Allura declared, taking inventory of the wares they’d accumulated throughout the morning. “So what else is on the agenda?” 

Lotor smiled for a moment as he considered a peaceful walk through the palace gardens, or a few hours detailing the various experiments he had brewing in his lab, but before he could suggest either, an unwelcome and unfriendly face appeared through the window, outside the cafe. “Oh no,” Lotor groaned. 

Allura turned her head to follow his eyes and ducked down, leaning over the table. “They sent Dayak to look for you?” She hissed warily. “What did you do?” 

He chuckled apologetically and pulled out enough GAC to cover the meals of everyone in the restaurant a few times over, leaving it at the edge of the table. “We should use the backdoor.” He said pensively, praying that Dayak wouldn’t walk through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To continue with this route, please proceed to chapter 11!


	11. Lotura 3C

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor has a flashback to a childhood party with Allura.

Cursed is he, with such terrible luck to have to resort to sneaking around the shopping district like some sort of escaped felon, yet here he is: crouching down behind merchant booths, scampering through alleyways.

With Princess Allura following closely behind.

Never, in all his millennia of being alive, has Lotor craved the sweet release of death than he has in this very moment, and it isn't because of Dayak.

He feels awfully childish for being in these circumstances, but Lotor stops himself from complaining because it is his fault. He did skip out on his own personal duties -- and without a single word of notification to anyone -- to spend time with Allura. As much as he might believe it to be time well spent, both Dayak and his father share different sentiments.

Although, he muses, this feels a bit like they're children again, sneaking out of Allura's castle at night to go stargazing, or swimming, or to Altea's capital square. He misses those days.

_It was the eve of Allura’s birthday and Lotor had instituted a tradition between them a few years ago that he always, always made sure he kept. No matter the consequences, even if it meant his father -- or worse, Dayak -- would scold him, it was totally, absolutely, one-hundred percent worth it, because it was for Allura._

_“Must we go now?” she’d grumbled, following along as she groggily rubbed the remnants of her dreams from her eyes. “Lotor, I’m still tired, and I want to go back to bed. Can’t we sneak out tomorrow evening?”_

_With a laugh, Lotor wordlessly took her hand and led her the rest of the way up the small hill, past the castle gardens and past the juniberry field, bringing them to a small meadow with only a single tree that sat at a perfect angle to watch the stars. At the base laid a blanket and a subtle, cerise blush settled across Allura's cheeks as Lotor coaxed her to him._

_"Sit," he'd encouraged, patting the spot beside him. "Come here."_

_Allura obliged and curled up against Lotor's body, resting her head comfortably on his chest as she gazed up at the sky with a delicate smile. Being as far away as they were from the castle, they could see perfectly how the stars aligned above them, and marveled with a childlike wonder at the shimmer of divine coatings of diamonds the Gods had generously sprinkled in the sky just that night. She tilted her head up to meet Lotor's gaze, and he met her with a warm smile, and pointed up to a cluster of stars._

_"Do you see that one? That one's Damia, just north of the Dalterion Belt over there."_

_"Over to the east is Ardeidae Minor," Allura smiled. "That one's my favorite."_

_"No, silly, it's to the west. I'd have thought you know your constellations, Princess."_

_"I do!" A haughty, prideful huff left Allura's lips and she pouted. "You're the one that needs to brush up on your astronomy, Your Highness."_

The memory elicits a warm, tingling feeling in the pit of Lotor's stomach, and he can't help but smile to himself. Those were such simpler times, he muses; how he wishes to return to those days.

It takes a good thirty or so doboshes before Lotor assumes they've lost Dayak and her entourage, stopping in an isolated, hidden alleyway just behind the main street. He peeks around the corners just for good measure, and when Lotor is certain that the coast is clear, he turns to meet Allura's gaze. As hard as it is, he manages to do it.

"My apologies, Princess, for our...circumstances," he says, albeit sheepishly. "I hadn't thought Dayak would send out a search party over my lack of attendance at a meeting." He stops for a moment, thinks, and then exhales a sigh. "Alright, I had a bit of a hunch, but I just couldn't bring myself to care."  
Allura, bless her heart, shakes her head and takes both of Lotor's hands in her own. She offers him a tender smile and says, "Silly, there's hardly a thing to apologize for. Besides, doesn't this feel a bit like when we were children?" Allura giggles. "Do you remember that, Lotor? Us sneaking out in the middle of the night?"

A wide smile tugs at the corners of Lotor's lips as he nods, giving the princess's hands a gentle squeeze. "How could I forget? We mastered the art of covert navigations." He grins wider.

"It's quite reassuring to know that neither of us have lost our touch."

Allura laughs again, more heartily this time, but the distant rushing of footsteps suddenly prompts Lotor to clamp his hand over her mouth and press themselves flush against the wall. Allura's eyes are wide in both shock and confusion, but Lotor brings a finger to his lips, and she understands. She relaxes against him, and it takes all the willpower he can summon to not short-circuit right in front of her.

It's still daylight, with the skies only beginning to turn beautiful shades of crimson, indigo, violet, so Lotor isn't sure how much help pressing against the wall is going to be in terms of hiding from whoever is coming down this alleyway. He isn't even sure if hiding is his rationale for pulling such a bold stunt out of nowhere. It's what he tells himself for now. It works.

He hears Dayak's frustrated voice in the distance, muttering something in High Galran that prompts a quiet snort from his end. But he stays still as a statue; so does Allura. Only after the footsteps are long gone, and the alleyway is once again as quiet as they had originally found it, does Lotor pull away, cheeks flushed a deep violet hue. He coughs awkwardly.

"I-- ah, sorry," he tries. The words die in his throat before he can even say them, and Lotor curses himself to the high heavens because of it. "I didn't mean to-- I, that was--"

At least he's not alone in his embarrassment, because Allura, too, is blushing deeply. (And Gods, does she look beautiful.)

"No, it's-- it's fine," she sputters, twirling a stray strand of hair around her fingertips. "I'd forgotten our...precarious situation."

Lotor chuckles, and soon so does Allura.

"Now what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To continue with this route, please proceed to chapter 12!


	12. Lotura 4C

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a meeting with his father, Lotor asks Allura a question.

Lotor thinks on the question a moment, partly trying to come up with a suitable answer, partly lost in the curious expression on Allura’s face. She’s always had a mesmerizing quality about her, and standing so close, it’s hard for Lotor to piece together what his mind wants to say. It takes a great deal of restraint not to cover the hand twirling her hair with his own. 

“You said you have all the supplies for the Ancestor’s Night Celebration, yes? Do you need to head back and begin preparations?” 

Allura’s face falls, and Lotor worries he said something wrong. Perhaps she’s just as uneager to leave as he is. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. I should be getting back, everyone is probably wondering where I am. I am sorry we couldn’t spend more time together today.” 

A burst of courage hits Lotor, and he decides to take the hand that has been distracting him. “What if I join you tonight? I can’t hide from my father forever. I’ll go deal with him while you prepare everything, and then I can join you tonight during the celebration.” 

“Are you certain?” Allura asks, concerned. 

“Yes, of course. Don’t worry, everything will be fine. I’ll find you tonight, I promise.” 

Allura still looks unsure, but she doesn’t question Lotor’s idea any further. Instead, she nods, allowing herself to be led back, her hand still in Lotor’s. 

Back at the castle, the two part ways, and Lotor steels himself for the inevitable scolding he is going to receive from his father. It’s never fun, but Zarkon is mostly harmless, if not perpetually disappointed in his only child. 

He pushes open the door to the throne room and enters. His father is the only one in the room, sitting so perfectly on his throne that there’s no way he is doing anything but waiting for his son to return. 

“Ah, Father, there you are,” Lotor greets casually, attempting to act as if nothing is wrong. “How has your afternoon been? Everything going alright? No one declared war on us or threatened secession from the Empire yet?” 

Zarkon’s expression doesn’t change, remaining a stoic yet slightly irritated expression. “If someone had, you wouldn’t know, seeing as you neglected all of your princely duties today. You’ve always been a slacker, but I thought you at least had the decency to show up to the meetings you’re expected to attend.” 

Lotor’s eyebrow twitches. “Sorry, I figured since my opinion is never needed at those than I wasn’t either. I’ll be sure not to make that mistake in the future.” 

Zarkon doesn’t make an attempt to correct Lotor’s comment or scold him on it. Instead, he asks: “So what was more important than your duty? Blowing our treasury money in the city? Abusing your authority?” 

“Actually,” Lotor replies, “I was being a diplomat. Despite you failing to tell me that our Altean allies are here for the Ancestor’s Night Celebration, I was able to make sure they felt welcome and prepared for this evening.” 

“I didn’t fail to tell you anything,” Zarkon retorts. “If you’d been at your meetings today, you would have met with the Altean ambassadors like you were supposed to. So, I can’t imagine who it was you were spending all of your time with.” 

Lotor’s body betrays him, and a small blush forms on his cheeks at the thought of Allura. His father doesn’t fail to notice it. “Oh? So you were with the Altean princess, then. I’m even more disappointed in you, Lotor. Do you know what it will look like for us if you break the heart of one of our strongest allies’ daughters? King Alfor is a dear friend of mine, and I will not allow you to have some torrid backroom affair with a girl you are not betrothed to, nor will you be betrothed to in the future.” 

“And why not?” Lotor asks. His blood boils at the implication he might use Allura in that way, one of his dearest friends, allies, and confidantes. “Why could I not marry Allura?”

“You very well know why,” Zarkon says, becoming angrier. “She is next in line for the Altean throne, and you are next in line for the Galran throne. As much as I would love to marry you away and be done with you, this Empire will one day be in your hands. I know Alfor has no intentions of giving his throne away to another bloodline so his heir can rule another nation, and I don’t either.” 

Lotor shakes his head, exasperated. “Then you think too small, Father. Just think of what our empires could accomplish were they to join together as one.” With that, Lotor leaves, walking out without looking back for his father’s reaction. 

Through the rest of the afternoon, Lotor is angry. He always knew his father thought lowly of him, but he can’t shake the disgust at him hurting Allura. His father had been right, Lotor has always known that a royal marriage between them has not been up for discussion, but the more he thinks about it, the more he doesn’t understand why. It makes the most sense to him politically, and he can’t deny in his heart the fact that there are emotional reasons for marrying her as well. 

By the time he is dressing for the Ancestor’s Night Celebration, Lotor decides - Zarkon be damned - that he will find Allura and tell her how he feels. 

-

The celebration is stunning: the Royal Ballroom glows from the ancestral constellation replicas hanging from the ceilings, each corner of the room dedicated to the great leaders and founders of the great empires. 

It doesn’t take Lotor long to find Allura. She’s more breathtaking than the room - her dress reflecting the night sky and stars above. Her white hair shines, cascading down her back like a cloud. Lotor’s heart beats wildly in his chest, and he decides there’s no time to waste. He has to tell her now. 

As he approaches, Allura notices him. Her face lights up when she sees him, and she meets Lotor halfway. “I’m so glad you made it!” Allura tells him, pulling him into a hug. “I was worried your father had eaten you alive.” 

Lotor chuckles. “I told you, my father is mostly harmless. It was nothing I couldn’t handle.” He swallows, trying to muster the courage to ask her his next question. “Listen, would it be possible for us to go somewhere private? I have something important I must ask you.” 

Allura’s brow crinkles, and she looks up to Lotor concerned. “Of course. Is everything alright?” 

He smiles down at her, gently brushing a stray hair away from her face. “Everything is wonderful.” 

She smiles back at him, and taking his arm, the two walk out of the room, finding their way onto the terrace above. Under the moonlight Allura positively shines, and Lotor knows he is meant to be with her. 

“We have known each other a very long time, Allura, since we were both young and foolish children. I know that we do not see each other often, as our duties to our empires calls, but there is something that I cannot deny: I love you.” 

Allura gasps, bringing a hand to her mouth. Before she can speak, Lotor continues. “I know that we are not betrothed, and I’m sure our fathers would much rather marry us off to planets whose alliances are not as strong as the Altean-Galran one. But I believe we could create something wonderful together, a multi-galaxy empire, never before seen by the universe.” 

It’s now Lotor realizes he has none of the proper betrothal bands used in Galran proposals, and that most royal betrothals happen in a strategy meeting between the two’s parents. It’s too late for him to stop now, though, and no part of Lotor wants to. “Allura, will you marry me?” 

Tears form in Allura’s eyes, and she stands frozen for what feels like an eternity before nodding furiously, throwing her arms around Lotor’s neck. “Yes! Lotor of course I will!” Lotor’s heart swells at the acceptance, and he twirls her around, eventually setting her down opposite where she started. 

She brings her hands to Lotor’s face, cupping his cheeks gently. “I love you, and I will marry you.” 

Tears begin to form in Lotor’s own eyes. Finally, doing what he’s wanted to do for years, Lotor leans down, bringing his lips to Allura’s. 

Instantly, she surrenders, and Lotor kisses Allura deeply. His friend, his love, his future wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of this route! Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you enjoyed it!  
> To read the Keitor routes, please proceed to chapter 2.


End file.
